


The Last Curse

by dragyn42



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-29
Updated: 2010-11-29
Packaged: 2020-03-01 04:11:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18792721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragyn42/pseuds/dragyn42
Summary: Voldemort definitely did not understand the power of love.





	The Last Curse

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a different challenge piece, but ultimately didn’t fit. Once I added the storm, though, voila, an entry for Halloween challenge! I think it’s even better now. As for the lateness, well, I can only blame real life and some other exchange fics I needed to spend time on. And a big thanks to flyingcarpet for her great beta work. She always makes me think. Hope you all enjoy it.

It was a dark and stormy night. Hermione was triapsing through the wood, following a lead on a possible sighting of a heretofore unknown unicorn pride when a flash of lightning and peal of thunder crashed around her, followed by a cry that echoed throughout the clearing, almost wolf-like in sound, but clearly human. Hermione easily recognized the voice as that of one her best friends for nearly ten years. She ran as fast as she could towards the source of the cry and was horrified by what met her there.

In the middle of a clearing stood Harry, though 'stood' might have been the wrong word. He was hunched in obvious pain. His shirt was lying in tatters next to him, having been torn from his body, and his muscles were all clenched in the stark relief of his skin as the falling rain dripped off of him and another flash of lightning silhouetted him in the black night.

“Harry!” she shrieked, running towards him, causing him to look up at her. His eyes stopped her in her tracks. They were green, but not sparkling with their usual depth. Instead, they were emerald flamed, tinged with red around the edges, and they were filled with hatred and desperation. He started moving towards her, reaching for her, a new emotion, a new _need_ stoking the flames of his eyes even further.

“Hermione! Get back!” came another familiar cry.

Ginny came bursting into the clearing, shoving Hermione harshly aside and drawing the attention of Harry. The redhead immediately took what Hermione recognized as a submissive posture towards her fiancé. Ginny tilted her shoulders slightly to the side, her head cocked, her body slouched just a bit forward, maintaining a pose that was clearly smaller than Harry – not that it was that difficult, as Ginny was smaller than Harry to start with.

“Voldemort cast the spell,” she explained in a soft, calming voice as she approached Harry. “No one saw it, no one heard it. When the symptoms first hit, it took a research team from Saint Mungo’s using the medical library in the Department of Mysteries to track down the cause. Luckily, the treatment and cure was documented, though it was unconfirmed, and he only suffered from it for the first night.”

By this point, Ginny had reached Harry and slowly, unaggressively lifted her hand to his damp face. Harry actually sniffed at her hand before he nuzzled his cheek into her palm.

“It’s the Hunter’s Moon Curse,” continued Ginny, still speaking as if she were trying to calm a panicked child. “In ages past, it was a punishment; lycanthropy without the werewolf. Every Hunter’s Moon, the victim would take on many of the attributes of a werewolf. They would lose themselves to their baser instincts, become aggressive and even violent.”

Hermione looked up, but the sky was pitch black, the stars and moon blotted out by the storm. Trying to mimic Ginny’s soft tone, Hermione asked, “You said there was a cure? What about...”

“Wolfsbane doesn’t work. And yes, there is a perfectly natural cure.” Harry began sniffing up Ginny’s arm and a rumbling growl emanated from deep within him as he reached her throat. “It was a punishment for rapists. They never had anyone to love them and were often hunted and killed off during their ‘change.’ That’s not the case with Harry. He only needs to – oh! – survive five annual lunar cycles.”

The cause of Ginny’s distraction was readily apparent: Harry was licking at her neck. “And there is a ready way to cancel the change as well. Mmmm. Sorry, Hermione...”

Ginny’s explanation faded away as Harry’s hands yanked open her soaked blouse and began pawing at her breasts. But Ginny didn’t seem to mind at all. She grabbed the sides of Harry’s head and pulled his face to hers, kissing him passionately, before gently pushing him away. Harry began growling again, but it faded as Ginny swayed sensually before him, her hands gliding over her own slick skin. Her dance was, as Harry had been earlier, painted in dark contour by another flash of light and crash of sound. She made quick yet seductive work of pulling off her trousers and knickers and used them for ground-cover as she knelt before Harry and worked at his belt.

Hermione knew she should leave. It was obvious what this ‘cure’ was, but her brain was in overload. She couldn’t make the necessary decision to move her legs, or shut her eyes, or even to simply get out of the rain. Her mind was spinning with words like ‘curse,’ ‘punishment’ and ‘werewolf’ overlaid with the image of what was in front of her: Ginny’s mouth now around Harry, his hands grabbing at the back of her head.

Rapists... Her mind was still trying to put it all together in spite of what was happening in front of her. No one would willingly sleep with a rapist. And as violent as they normally were, combined with the effects of the curse, they would be killed off long before they survived even the first change. But Ginny always had the ultimate faith in and love for Harry Potter. She would know deep inside that he would never hurt her.

Although, right now Hermione wasn’t as sure. Harry had pushed Ginny down into the muddy grass, and he was most definitely now deep inside, and given his length and forcefulness, Hermione couldn’t fathom how that would not hurt her. Ginny’s moans told her otherwise. Voldemort would never have understood the cure. He would have been overjoyed at the thought of those who Harry saved turning on him and killing him. He never would have comprehended that if a person loved and was loved, that would never happen. Voldemort’s revenge had been foiled.

Or was being foiled... Harry was slamming into Ginny with an animalistic viciousness, in seeming concert with the wild storm. His entire focus was on her pale, toned form. For a moment, Hermione was jealous – she would never look that good. Her thoughts were interrupted as Ginny cried out again, her screeches of pleasure, for there was no mistaking that’s what they were, growing in intensity, matching the quickening speed of Harry’s thrusts.

In a final explosion, Harry and Ginny reached a crescendo, their shouts echoing through the clearing and into the surrounding woods. Their motion had halted as if time had frozen; Ginny arched up into Harry, her arms splayed out along the ground; Harry likewise arched, his body supported on his arms, his hips joined inwards with Ginny’s, his face crying out to the horizon.

And from deep in the woods, nature responded to the declaration as the rain abated and, for a moment, the fullness of the Hunter’s Moon shone brightly through a break in the clouds. Wolves, dogs and other, unidentifiable wildlife all howled out in unison, matching the call of the mating couple to the sky.

Harry collapsed onto Ginny, their skin smacking against each other as water splashed up from the storm soaked ground. As if staged, the light of the moon faded to blackness once more and the rain, a gentle shower now, fell, erasing the mud and grime from the sated, naked bodies.

Eventually, Harry pushed himself off of Ginny, who moaned in complaint, and he sat backwards, his eyes finally meeting Hermione’s. She could easily see embarrassment in his now mostly normal, glittering green eyes, but there were a host of other emotions as well: guilt, love and devotion – obviously toward his fiancée – and most of all defiance, clearly aimed at herself.

“I...” she stuttered out in the gentle patter of the rain.

“No one,” stated Harry.

“Of course not!” huffed Hermione, annoyed that he would even think he needed to tell her. “It never leaves here. I wouldn’t tell a soul. You know that.”

He held her gaze for several moments, and she was surprised at the authority, the control that he projected, but then she quickly understood. Ginny could subdue most of his desires, but some instincts would inevitably stay prominent until the Hunter’s Moon set. Harry, more than anyone she had ever met, was an alpha, even if he tried to deny and suppress it.

Harry then nodded at her and turned back towards Ginny. He pulled her now sitting, naked body in towards his with one arm, cupping her dripping face with his other hand. His eyes met hers.

“I forgot,” he said softly. “Time just... and work... I’m so sorry.”

“We all forgot, love. Time got away from us this year. But Kingsley forced Robards to tell me where you were.”

Harry hugged Ginny more tightly, drawing comfort from her presence. “I hate doing that to you.”

“Don’t you dare. I love that I can do that for you. You would never hurt me. I knew it the first time we did this, and nothing has changed.” Her voice then dropped a bit and Hermione struggled to make it out. “Besides, I kind of like it when you take me like that. Not all the time, mind you, but.... mmmm....”

Hermione blushed and decided how best to get out of there before they started shagging again, because she was afraid that was exactly what was going to happen. She turned to walk quietly away, but the motion apparently caught the couple’s attention.

“You might as well ask now, Hermione, because we’re never talking about this with you again,” said Ginny from behind her.

“When...” she started, turning back to them.

“We’re not sure when exactly, but we learned about it the October following the battle. Kingsley recognized something was wrong with Harry during a late training exercise and took him to Saint Mungo’s. They figured it out that first night, as well as discovered the supposed treatment and ‘cure.’ Harry then told them, reluctantly, I might add, to call me. After the second night, we knew the treatment worked. We can only assume the cure does, too.”

“But that was your seventh year.”

“Yes, it was. The Healers called on McGonagall, who called Mum. They told her only that I was needed to help Harry, not what was going on, and Mum agreed to let me go. She loves Harry like one of her own, after all. They told me what they knew and what I had to do. I agreed without a second thought.”

“Who else knows?” asked Hermione. It never hurt to be prepared, and knowing who was in on the secret would help.

“Harry’s Healers, Kingsley and us.”

“Your mum?”

“She is aware now, but doesn’t want to know, mostly because of what it means for me. It’s best to just ignore it and pretend she has no idea.”

“And the Harpies? The Aurors?”

“Kingsley knows and keeps Robards off Harry’s back. And all Gwenog knows is that three days and nights in October, I won’t be around, no matter what. It might change in the future, but only when I say so. I had it put into my contract.”

“And tonight?”

“I was here for the same reason you were,” said Harry. “The pride you’re looking for? Well, there were reported to be horn poachers around. We’ve been busy all month, so Robards gave me something ‘relaxing’ to do. Since both the pride and poachers were merely rumor, we figured there probably wouldn’t be much here. I was going to look around and then head home, calling for immediate backup only if I found something.”

“Gwenog had commented at the pub that she was surprised I hadn’t taken my time off yet,” continued Ginny. “And that’s when I realized what night it was. I immediately contacted Kingsley, who had likewise forgotten, and came here. We all just seemed to... lose track of time this year. You know the rest.”

There was one more thing, “Was it...?”

“What?” asked Ginny.

“First?” asked Hermione, blushing furiously.

“Oh! No. That was on my seventeenth birthday,” the redhead answered with a smile. “Saint Mungo’s was our second – well, technically fourth – time. But we can talk about my first time later.”

“Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like some time with my woman,” Harry practically growled. Yes, he was definitely still under the influence of the curse. Ginny’s focus was now back on Harry as she licked her lips and leaned closer, eliminating the space between them.

Hermione turned away and Disapparated as quickly as she could.


End file.
